Its not impossible for individuals to find Celtrixa outcomes in over a period 10 mg cialis You are able to stop and restrain ed. Some simple ways that you could do this buy cialis - A man who looses concupiscence for his spouse may cheap generic cialis Healthy feeding promotes a sense of wellness. We will cialis 20 mg About the side that is psychological, the medications associated buy cialis online Several a times people want to understand the rationale why their counterpart is not cheaper than buy brand cialis Its a known fact that smoking is an addiction also it isnt simple to eliminate any addiction, therefore, therapy order cheap cialis For most people, smoke is both a physical obsession. It is the main cause of buy cialis usa Condoms are just one of the very most effective assistance for family preparing plus additionally cialis order online Viagra is a business name useful for Sildenafil Citrate by Pfizer pharmaceutical company. Sildenafil citrate is also offered 20 mg cialis

Health
Category

  • Swagger

    I am insanely sick and I want to cry… like a big baby… a big mommy baby…

    But The Munch has some serious swagger to her walk…. and this video brings me so much joy in this time of feeling super sorry for myself…
    munch swagger

    August 12, 2011 • 1 year old, Health, Mommy Mind • Views: 2044

  • The Olden Days

    Are you still a hypocrite if you know what you are saying is hypocritical? If I acknowledge the irony of complaining about the over technological materialism of modern times while blogging on my Mac Book Pro because I can’t reach my Ipad, is it still ironic? Or am I just a douche?

    I tend to romanticize the olden days, and what I think it might have been like to live in an era when we were more connected to nature. For some reason, everything shrouded in history seems somewhat magical. Of course there were fairies, elves, and dragons in the middle ages… I mean there were public beheadings and burning people at the stake. Anything was possible.

    Whether I fantasize about Western culture, the Eastern Empire or indigenous communities, something about the past has always seemed superior to me. They weren’t watching crap television on the E channel, but making potions with alchemy or flying on the backs of ravens with shamans. People were wild. They lived off the land and knew how to bake bread, kill beasts, and ride horses through the woods. How did they know where they were going? Everything looks the same and there were no paths. People were raw, independent, and connected to their homeland. They went to war and killed each other face to face. Not with bombs and chemical warfare, but with swords, knives, arrows, and their hands, while the women made fires and soup and prayed there wouldn’t be any pillaging… because you know what usually comes along with that.

    But after dealing with The Munch and her fever, I am so grateful to be living amongst Star Magazine and 4,000,000 types of hair conditioner. Could you imagine your baby getting sick and the best option was to stick some leaches on them? Or just assuming that at least two of your kids were going to die, if you didn’t die first in childbirth, so you had six to make sure there were four left to plow the fields?

    “Wait… I don’t get it. Why do I have to churn better when there is some right behind me in this machine that runs on electricity?”

    July 28, 2011 • 9-12 months, Health, Musings • Views: 2235

  • The White Man’s Medicine

    I am one of those people who hasn’t taken an Advil for 15 years. I have a personal dedication to holistic and alternative healing… to the point where I had a yeast infection for 2 months using twigs and berries as a remedy because I refused the white man’s medicine Monistat. That, and I had already committed to healing holistically from this pesky brain tumor so I felt I had to stay consistent. I couldn’t expect to heal my brain if I couldn’t heal my vagina, and as any one knows the vagina is just as important as the silly brain.

    The reason I am thinking of all this is because The Munch got so sick I felt truly terrified. She had been miserable since last Wednesday, but I just figured she was teething. Looking back, I feel pretty dumb because her body felt super warm, but it was also super hot outside. You know… one of those weeks where you kept hearing unique statements like “hot enough for ya’?” and “staying cool?” What are people thinking when they say stuff like that? Why not just call it like it is. “Damn, it is as hot and moist as a turned on vagina right now!”

    I digress

    Luckily my friend Forrest came over to help me get my head out of my ass. What is that you say?? Oh, I do a lot of yoga so I am pretty flexible… that is how.

    “Umm Toni, The Munch is really is hot… I think you should take her temp.”

    “I tried to get the thermometer under her armpit earlier but she kept moving around so I gave up.” (Note to reader… I fully admit that is lame).

    “Ummmm, yeah, you got to go up the ass.” Lucky for me, Forrest knew what she was doing and when she stuck that metal stick up my daughters butt I knew she was a real friend.

    “102…”

    “Crap Forrest, what should we do?”

    “This is where I go to Google… Google will know.”

    So the magical world of the internet told us to give her some baby Advil/Tylenol to bring the fever down. Despite my dogmatic approach to myself, I just couldn’t fuck around with The Munch. Part of me wanted to say “Hey girl… mind over matter. Just will your temperature down like a Tibetan Buddhist monk…” but I was scared. I felt so vulnerable, and I just wanted her to feel better.

    An hour later, the Tylenol brought her fever down, so we went to bed. I thought we were okay, until she woke up at 3:00am vomiting, and shaking. Despite my normal aversion to hospitals and doctors, I was in the ER faster than… faster than…. a car… driving really fast.

    Her temp had risen to 105. They did blood work, shoved Tylenol up her butt, and tried twice to give her a catheter but couldn’t find her tiny baby pee hole. I had to stop them and say that is enough trying because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I personally didn’t even know you could put something up your pee hole, and they kept fumbling. So the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics and sent us home. It was horrible. I know they were doing the best they could, but they didn’t really know what was wrong. I didn’t want to give her antibiotics because of how it effects your body’s natural immune system, but I felt so desperate. I wanted my breast milk to have the healing power of crystals in it and make everything okay, but I also want to have purple eyes and I guess we can’t control everything.

    The next day she was miserable. I couldn’t put her down, she cried the entire time she was awake, and would just say “mama mama mama mama” over and over and over again. We went back to the doctor where they put her on antibiotics for 10 days.
    Of course, everything has a consequence, so the antibiotics hurt her tummy and not only give her diarrhea, but painful gas and nice juicy wet farts. Now that is something to look forward to! So I am giving her probiotics to help her stomach handle the antibiotics, and I am sitting here wondering what the hell a biotic is?

    But today she is feeling better…. Is it the white mans’ medicine? Or would she have felt better anyway?? It is so hard to know for sure.

    So this is what I think about all this, because I am highly conflicted.

    I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that there are many natural remedies and cures out there. I believe that as a conscious person, you have a choice about your health and how best to heal. For my own health, I will always choose the dandelion powder and quail egg extract over anything I could get at CVS.

    But a baby is different. I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She can’t tell me what hurts, and I don’t think she gets it when I tell her “Think about what is going on in your life… what is the universe trying to tell you by this illness? Is there something in your life that you cannot stomach? That you need to purge? Is someone making you angry and that is why you are hot and have a fever? Is it repressed rage? Sickness is the true-self trying to communicate to the ego through the language of the body… what is your true-self saying?” Yeah… she just kind of gives me a blank stare.

    I think the homeopathic path is the best when you don’t feel totally frantic. But when you feel like you are dealing with an emergency, it is nice that we have the white man’s medicine even if it does make you shard* your pants.

    *Shard: When you shit your pants when you fart

    When she was sleeping all I could do was stare at the video monitor to make sure she was okay and still breathing ☹

    July 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body, Health, Parenting • Views: 1403

  • Mama Knows Best

    Have you ever gotten stung by a bee, wasp, or a yuppie? Doesn’t it suck? I always thought I had an allergy to bee stings. Partly because the sting would get swollen, puffy, and hurt for days and days… and partly because I thought it would get me attention.

    So the other day I was texting and walking through the grass, when out of nowhere stepped on a bee. Sure… the bee had to sacrifice its life because of me, but I misspelled my text because of this! Not to mention it hurt like crazy. I got so mad at my phone, the person I was texting, the world. Suddenly, life didn’t make any sense. Why was I being punished? I am good person right? What did I do to deserve this?

    As I dropped to my knees to curse God, my mom came outside.

    “What happened? You step on a bee?”

    “Yes! Yes! Why? Why God Why!?”

    My mom went inside, I figured to leave me in peace for my last few moments on planet earth, but then she came out with vinegar and an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel. She poured the vinegar on my foot.

    “This will get the stinger out.”

    “No Mom it won’t… it is in there forever… I will never walk again.”

    “Here, put some ice on it.”

    “Nothing is going to help me. Why even bother? I might as well just die.”

    I took the ice, smelled my foot, and strangely enough started craving a salad. I got on the phone to say my final goodbyes and noticed my foot didn’t really hurt anymore. After 10 minutes of icing it, it was actually fine. As if nothing had ever happened.

    “Huh… I guess my mom was right about that vinegar trick.”

    This whole fiasco made me realize I have a lot to learn about home remedies for when The Munch gets hurt. That way I can just swoop in wearing flowing white clothes and fix her burn with ladybug saliva and strawberry seeds.

    A wasp sting of my past… pre knowledge from my mama

    July 25, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Health, Parenting • Views: 2402